


The Long Road Home

by TheDoctorAndSarah



Series: The Long Road Home [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorAndSarah/pseuds/TheDoctorAndSarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months ago, Sarah found herself all alone in Aberdeen. Now, as she tries to make a new life for herself, a stranger with no memory shows up injured and bleeding on her front porch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of interconnected stories. We promise that each will have a well-defined beginning and end, but they'll all fit into an arc that starts when a man shows up on Sarah Jane Smith's doorstep with no memory and ends when … well, you'll just have to find out.
> 
> As far as canon, all of these stories mesh with what we've actually seen onscreen in Doctor Who itself, but *not necessarily Sarah Jane Adventures*.
> 
> (OK, everything onscreen in Doctor Who except the Brigadier's history in "Mawdryn Undead", and that's because THOSE writers were fudging dates and hoping nobody would notice.)
> 
> Also, if you've come here because we've listed "Tenth Doctor" in the character tags, we should tell you now that he doesn't appear until much later in the series … or does he?
> 
> Finally, we've put a lot of work into making sure all the pieces fit together - and believe me, that's quite a job! - so we'd really appreciate your feedback.
> 
> Thanks!

**January, 1977**

Two hours ago, Sarah Jane Smith had stepped down the street, quietly whistling "Daddy Wouldn't Buy Me A Bow Wow", looking for somewhere to go while waiting for the Doctor. Just a few moments before, the TARDIS had dematerialized. A moment later, looking around, she'd realized that once again the Doctor had blown it; this wasn't even South Croydon, let alone Hillview Road.

Part of her hadn't been able believe that he was actually gone. Even though he had told her he was leaving her to go back to Gallifrey, she'd never really believed he would go. Even though he'd instructed her about to whom to give his regards, she'd been sure he'd be back very soon, long before she could deliver them. Even though he hadn't said he'd be right back, she'd been sure he would.

Carrying a small suitcase, a potted geranium and a few other personal items, she'd kept expecting him to call her back. She'd walked down the street glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, expecting him to reappear at any moment.

But he hadn't. Instead there had been just an empty void where a few moments before, the only place she had ever felt at home had stood. 'That's it?' she'd asked herself. 'All those years, and now suddenly nothing?' He'd be back, she'd thought. He wouldn't, couldn't do this to her.

After almost two hours of sitting on a curb waiting, she'd walked to the nearest phone and placed a collect call to the Brigadier. Now she sat in a local Scottish pub sipping a soda while she waited for Sergeant Benton.

It all seemed so surreal. One minute she was in the center of the universe, the next, dumped in Aberdeen. She sighed, reminding herself that he'd be back soon, and she could tease him about it then.

* * *

Three months later, Sarah Jane Smith was sitting on her back porch with her arms wrapped around her legs, looking up at the sky. The sky was clear and the stars were beginning to fill the night. As they started to appear, one by one, the twinkling beacons seemed to call to her.

In her mind, a deep voice was saying, 'Till we meet again, Sarah.' How she longed to hear that voice again. But he had yet to return for her, and she wondered where he was at that moment.

When they'd said goodbye, she had been so sure it was all a bad dream, or some silly mistake, and he would come right back for her. After all, she was his best friend, and as for him, well, he was life itself to her. They had been together for years; why would he just abandon her?

What if she had done something wrong and didn't realize it? Was it that silly fight? No, they had those all the time; they both knew it was all in fun.

She closed her eyes for a moment and like a child, she wished and prayed at the same time. "Oh, please come back for me. I don't belong here, I belong with you." A little tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away. "I don't fit in here. This isn't my home anymore."

When she could no longer keep her eyes open, she stood up, walked into the house and went upstairs to bed to cry herself to sleep. She didn't bother to change her clothes. Instead she just lay across the bed and silently cried.

* * *

The next morning was the same as any other since she had returned. The sun always rose in the east, always orange, always just the one. Nothing chasing her, no alien plots to foil, no galactic catastrophes threatening life as she knew it. It was like being stuck in a time loop, one day just like the last, and just like the next.

But today, she was going to change all that.

It had taken some doing, but she'd convinced the Brigadier to let her write "Fighting for Humankind: a History of UNIT", on the condition that she understood that the book might be censored later. That was fine with her; this way she could write about everything, including the exciting pieces she really wanted to write about, without the Brig thinking she'd lost her touch - or perhaps her sanity.

And today was her first day working on it.

To start off her research, she'd invited Harry over to breakfast. She'd told him it was because he'd been working for UNIT since long before he'd ever even met the Doctor, but really, it was because it was good to talk to someone who understood what it was that she was missing. He was the only person she knew who had traveled with the Doctor, and talking to Harry made her feel closer to him, too. Of course she never let on about how hurt she was, or how much she missed him. That was something she kept to herself.

Finally, she leaned over and shut off her recorder. "Thank you so much Harry, that's enough for one day. It'll be such a great help to me with the book."

"Glad to be of service, my dear Sarah Jane," Harry smiled at her, and munched on a Jammie Dodger. "Thanks for remembering these are my favorites, old girl."

Sarah gave him a stern look. "Harry I'm so happy about all the information you just gave me, I'm not even going to scold you. But please, no old girl or old thing anymore, alright?"

Harry laughed. "Sorry old gi...," he stopped short. "I say, force of habit you know, hard to break. I promise though, I will try to remember." He chewed a bit. "You know, you look tired, Sarah Jane, and much too thin. Should I be concerned about you?"

Sarah smiled and patted his hand. "No, Harry, just still adjusting to living back on earth, eating the food here again, and the changes in time. I expect my body will get used to it sooner or later."

"Well then, I'm afraid I have to brave the rain and get back to work. However, I will be checking back in on you now that you're settling into a normal routine."

"Thanks, Harry. It's always good to have friends around," said Sarah as she stood up. "Come along then, I'll see you to the door like a proper hostess, Doctor Sullivan." She gave him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek, then opened the door for him.

Sprawled on her front stairs lay a man, his body twisted as though he'd slipped and fallen in the pouring rain, blood gushing from his head and running down the steps towards the street in a scarlet river.

"Oh my heavens," exclaimed Sarah. "Harry, we've got to help him!"

Harry knelt down and listened to his chest. "He's still breathing. Sarah Jane, go get an umbrella and some towels."

Sarah ran back into the house and came back out with the towels and an umbrella as quickly as she could. "How is he, Harry?" She looked at all the blood on her steps and knew it couldn't be good.

Harry had run out to his car to grab his medical bag and was listening to his chest. "Ah, wonderful," he said, eyeing the umbrella. "It's raining so hard I couldn't even check his pupils." With Sarah holding the umbrella over them, he leaned over and flashed a light in the man's eyes. "Pulse is strong, eyes aren't dilated, so that's good. Do you know this fellow?"

Sarah gave him a long hard look. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, fairly attractive, even with his short brown hair plastered down with rain and blood. She shook her head. "No, I've never seen him before."

The man groaned and started reaching out as though trying to grab something.

"Can you hear me old chap?" Harry asked him.

The man groaned again. "My head..."

"Try not to move," Harry said, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you. Now then, can you tell me your name?"

"Doctor ... You're a doctor?" The man looked up at him as though trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Just lie still and try to keep calm," Harry said, trying again to take his vitals. "You've had a bad blow to your head. Do you know your name, or where you are?"

"Course," he mumbled. "I'm ... " He seemed to be concentrating. "Um ... can't seem to ... " He stifled a groan. "Tip ... my tongue." His eyes closed and he seemed to lapse back into unconsciousness.

Harry checked his pupils again and he moaned.

"Looks like he might have fallen on your steps and hit his head. Sarah Jane, go call an ambulance, we'll need to get him to hospital, and I don't want to move him without at least a cervical collar, just in case."

"NO," the man said, almost forcefully. "No hospital..." But then he was out again, and quiet.

"This is going to need more attention than I can give him here," said Harry. "I'll do what I can to stop the bleeding." While Sarah ran to call the ambulance, Harry pulled a bandage out of his medical bag and applied pressure to the gash with one hand, holding the umbrella over the man with the other and trying to piece together what had happened. The gash was on the top of the man's head, so he'd probably arrived with it.

He wondered just what kind of trouble had found Sarah Jane this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah returned shortly. "An ambulance is on the way. Is there anything we can do for him while we're waiting?"

"Take the umbrella again, if you would, so I can get a good look at this." Pulling on a pair of gloves, Harry moved aside a shock of short brown hair to get a good look. "Well, it's a nasty laceration, but I don't think there's a fracture. Don't worry so much about all this," he said, motioning to the crimson stream slowly flowing down to the street. "The scalp tends to bleed a lot. I'm much more concerned about brain injury."

Sarah held the umbrella in one hand and a torch in the other. She studied the young man at her feet. She felt drawn to him somehow, and wondered how and why he had ended up on her doorstep.

As Harry worked on him, Sarah kept staring at his face. He looked so helpless just lying there.

Suddenly her heart stopped. Was he... could it be? Now her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised Harry couldn't hear it. "Harry," she said quickly, "when you listened to his heart, was there anything unusual about it?"

"No, should there be?" he asked distractedly, trying to decide whether to suture now or wait until they were out of the rain.

Sarah knelt down next to the man and put a hand on his shoulder, staring intently at him. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but check and see if there's another heartbeat on his right side."

Harry looked at her for a moment. He knew exactly what she was getting at. There was no point trying to dissuade her, but the very fact that she had asked saddened him. He sighed and placed his stethoscope in the spot the Doctor had indicated for his second heart all those years ago, not expecting to hear anything but breath sounds.

And that's all he heard. "Sorry, Sarah, just the one heart."

Sarah was crestfallen, but tried not to let it show. She smiled feebly and shook her head. "Of course not. Silly idea, wasn't it?" She turned her face away so Harry couldn't see her crying, grateful for the rain.

But Harry had seen the pained expression on her face. She looked like a child who had just bounded down the stairs on Christmas morning to find nothing but an empty tree, and had realized for the first time that there was no Father Christmas.

For not the first time, Harry cursed the Doctor for breaking Sarah's heart. For months now, ever since the day she'd sheepishly returned from Scotland without him, Harry had been watching her sleepwalk through her life. It was as though without the Doctor, she had no direction, no purpose, no reason for going on.

If she'd been a weak person, Harry could have accepted it. But she wasn't, and to see such a strong will break... He heard the ambulance siren screaming down the street.

Sarah heard it too. She looked down at the stranger again. He may not have been the Doctor, but he was here on her doorstep, and that made her feel somehow responsible for his welfare. "I want to go to the hospital with him, Harry," she said.

"Sarah..." he warned, then he sighed. "I don't suppose there's any point in trying to talk you out of getting involved in all this, is there?"

"No, Harry," she said resolutely. "Sorry, there's not. He ended up here for a reason, I'm sure of it. Besides," she said, putting a smile on her face. "Who knows, there could be a great story in this once we find out who he is."

Harry shook his head, then started calling off vital signs to the newly arrived paramedics. As they were fitting the cervical collar, he pulled Sarah aside. "Listen, if you want to go to hospital, all right, but it doesn't make any sense for you to ride with him while I drive behind. Just in case something happens, I'll ride in the ambulance, you follow in my car, and we'll meet back up in A&E. Then at least I'll be able to drive you home afterwards."

Sarah put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "Thank you, Harry."

* * *

Moving. He was moving, he could tell that much from the vibration and swaying. But he felt strangely immobile, strapped down, a stiff collar holding even his head. He heard himself moan ... or at least he assumed it was him. Nothing seemed to make any sense.

"Steady on old chap," said a voice. "We have to keep you from moving, so I'm afraid you're somewhat strapped down at the moment. Just try to stay as still as possible. We'll be at the hospital very soon now."

He heard the words, and tried to stay calm. He thought he should look around, but he couldn't get his eyes to open. He figured he was probably in an ambulance, and something about that bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He felt the ambulance stop, and the jarring drop as the stretcher was pulled off the vehicle and rolled into the hospital. What was he thinking about again? He couldn't remember. Couldn't remember anything, actually, he realized with a start, and he could feel his heart start to pound. Then he felt a soft hand in his, and he felt his eyes open, almost of their own accord. A moment or two later, when they focused, he saw a face leaning over him, where he could see it.

She was beautiful, and looking at her, he suddenly felt as though everything was going to be all right.

"Welcome back," she said, smiling reassuringly at him. "Harry here has told everyone that I'm his assistant, so I'll be able to stay with you through most of the procedures and tests that you'll be having."

He looked behind her and realized that the ceiling wasn't moving anymore; he must be in a room. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I ... er ... I don't remember your name, I'm sorry."

"You don't remember my name because we weren't introduced. I'm Sarah Jane Smith, and this is my friend, Doctor Harry Sullivan." She motioned towards Harry. "We found you unconscious on my front steps. Do you remember anything yet?"

"Yet?" he asked. He realized that he remembered the man named Sullivan asking him a question, but nothing else. "Er ... no. I don't think so."

"Well, no need to worry about it for now, just concentrate on getting better. I'm sure your memory will come back soon." She patted his arm gently.

A nurse started rolling up his sleeve, but he still couldn't move his head to see what was going on. He cried out as he felt a jab. "What's going on?"

"It's alright, nothing to worry about, the Sister here is just drawing a little blood so it can be tested." Sarah held his hand. "There, it's almost over. You can squeeze my hand if you need to."

He concentrated on the feel of her hand, and in a moment he felt something being taped to his arm. "Do I have to wear this collar?" he asked.

"Just until we've made sure you haven't broken anything," he heard Harry say. Then he heard another person approach.

"All right then," he heard a woman say, "we'll need to get some information while we're waiting for the Doctor. Name?"

"I'm afraid he's suffering from memory loss," Harry said. "You'll have to register him as a John Doe."

"John Doe it is, then," she said.

Sarah saw the fear in his eyes and the wounded look on his face. She had a sudden urge to stroke his head and comfort him. She wanted to tell him that she knew exactly how he felt, lost, out of place, confused and alone. She understood what it felt like to be suddenly dropped into an unfamiliar place and not be able to find your bearings.

"Well, then," he said, "it's a name, I suppose. Better than 'hey you'." And somehow, it did make him feel a little better. A little more ... anchored. Even if it wasn't his name, it was something.

"I'll just call you John, then, if I may," smiled Sarah at him.

He liked that smile. A lot. He smiled back at her.

For what seemed like an eternity, John was examined, poked, prodded, and questioned about his pain. He had been cleaned up, stitched up and IV'd. He'd begun to think of his little cubicle as "home".

When it came time to X-ray his head, Sarah told John that since they wouldn't let her in anyway, she'd just stay in the cubicle and wait for him. And anyway, Harry had medical privileges; they had to let him in. So when they left, just as she had hoped, she was all alone.

Immediately, she started going through "John's" soaking clothes, looking for anything that would give her a clue as to his identity. First on the pile was his jacket. Nothing in any of the pockets. Same for the shirt. She looked around and made sure no one was coming, then reached for his pants.

She knew she shouldn't even let the thought that he could have bigger-on-the-inside pockets enter her head. After all, he had just one heart, but still, she had to see for herself before she could let this go. She thought she felt something as she picked up the soaking-wet pants, and prayed, 'Oh please, let that be a sonic screwdriver.'

Slowly, she reached her hand into the frustratingly normal-sized pocket.

She drew out a box.

A small, square, dark blue velvet-covered box, the type that you'd put a ring into.

She opened it and sure enough, it held a beautiful, sparkling, engagement ring.


	3. Chapter 3

The ring looked to be about one carat, not gaudy, not too expensive, but tasteful and lovely. It was exactly the sort of thing she'd pick out if she were choosing a ring for herself. 'Well, Mr. Doe, you do seem to have someone you care for deeply, don't you?' she thought.

She slipped the ring back into his pocket and finished her search. There was absolutely nothing special about the pants. No sonic screwdriver, no transdimensional pockets, not so much as a yo-yo, let alone a Jelly Baby. She sighed and put the pants back on the pile of clothing.

"Well, what did you expect?" she said out loud, scolding herself. She sat down heavily on the chair next to the bed, feeling her mood begin to drift. "Better shape up, Miss Smith," she warned angrily. "This kind of behavior simply won't do."

She leaned back and closed her eyes, and by the time they wheeled John back into the room, Harry by his side, she had forced herself to calm down. She reminded herself to be more careful in the future and not to let any negative feelings she might have show. She took a deep breath and smiled. "How did it go?"

"As well as could be expected," Harry said, hanging John's chart on the end of his bed. "No obvious fractures, but I'd like to wait for the radiologist to give the scans a good reading before we make any definite treatment decisions."

"So now we wait?" Sarah asked.

"So now we wait," Harry said.

John listened to the exchange. "Any idea how long? This thing is driving me crazy," he said, knocking on the plastic cervical collar.

"Sorry, no," Harry said kindly. "But here's something we can do to pass the time. It occurred to me while we were in radiology that we were so busy taking care of you that we never checked your clothes for identification." He looked around for John's clothes, then handed them to him. "Here you are, do you need some help?"

"I don't think so," John said, excited, holding up the clothing so he could see it. "I can't believe we didn't think of this. Although, I suppose we were occupied elsewhere," he said, touching the thick bandages on his head.

He looked at the ruined suit, damp from the soaking rain, and stained with his blood. A shiver ran through him; what had happened? He checked the back pockets of the pants for a wallet and found nothing. Disappointed, he absently reached into one front pocket, then the other, and jumped as his fingers hit something.

He pulled out the small box and stared at it for a moment, then quickly opened it. He breathed in sharply, then stared at the ring inside, as though hypnotized.

"My word," Harry said. "Looks like you were definitely on your way somewhere important, old chap."

"Yes," said Sarah with a twisted smile. "Looks like John has someone special in his life."

"So ..." John started, "she'll be looking for me, then." He looked up hopefully at them. "If she called the police, will they know to look for me here? Or the hospital? Will they know to tell her about me, even though they don't have my name?" he set the ring on his chest and started frantically looking through the other pockets.

"I'm sure that they will," Sarah said, patting his shoulder as he realized there was nothing in the other pockets.

John turned the ring over in his hands, looking for an inscription as he listened to Sarah and Harry make small talk while they waited. After a few minutes, he reluctantly put away the ring and tried to participate rather than be rude, but he was clearly unable to keep up. He wasn't part of their lives, privy to their goings-on, and he didn't have any stories of his own to tell, so he was grateful when, to include him in the conversation, they decided to see just what he could remember.

Sarah and Harry quizzed him on various topics, from his life to history to current events, and finally the three of them decided that he really didn't remember much of anything at all.

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. He remembered how to walk, and talk, and dress himself, so he wasn't an invalid. But it wasn't just his own past that seemed to be gone; He seemed to have facts down, but as for events, he seemed to be a completely clean slate. For example, he knew that England was a constitutional monarchy, but he couldn't remember who currently sat on the throne.

After just over an hour of this, Doctor Alden returned with the test results. "Well," he said, looking over John's chart. "You're a very lucky man indeed, Mr. Doe. I don't see how, but after an fairly serious blow to the head, you've managed to come away with only a minor concussion. As for your memory loss, I'm reasonably certain it's only temporary. If you haven't remembered who your primary care doctor is in three days, I'll want to see you back here for a follow-up so we can close out our records. I'll be sending some instructions and precautions for you to follow when you leave." He reached over and took the cervical collar off of him. "And you'll be happy to hear that you won't be needing this anymore."

John took a deep breath and let it out, then moved his head. It hurt a bit, but at least he felt a little more in control. Finally, he was able to look directly at Sarah and Harry and see where he was, rather than just staring at the ceiling.

Harry looked exactly as he'd expected, except for the Navy uniform, which seemed somehow proper after just a moment of consideration.

But it was Sarah that he really took a good look at. He'd already decided that he liked her smile; now he decided he liked the rest as well. He pictured her as a compassionate, kind-hearted soul, and something about the way she looked seemed to confirm that; he wasn't sure what. To him, she looked like an angel, and for a moment he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He felt the nurse raising the head of his bed so he could sit up a little. "Thank you," he said. "Much better, though I can't say moving much is on my agenda right now."

"You'll most likely be sore for a few days old chap, but after that you'll be right as rain," smiled Harry.

"Let's hope so," John said. "Doctor, or... Doctors, I guess I should say, you think I will get my memory back, right?"

"I'd say the chances of it are very good," Doctor Alden said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another person in the room and realized with a start that it was a mirror, and that he was in fact the man staring back at him. For a moment he just stared, trying to reconcile himself to his appearance. He put his hand up to his face, feeling his clean-shaven cheeks, the sharpness of his nose, the position of his eyebrows. The turban-esque bandage covered his ears and most of the rest of his head, so he still didn't exactly know what he looked like, but it was something.

Just then one of the Sisters came in. "Excuse me, but Matron rang up the station a while ago, and the police are here now. They want to speak with Mr. Doe."

"Police?" he asked nervously. "I haven't ... done anything. Or at least, I don't think so."

"It's alright, John," said Sarah softly. "They're only here because you may have been the victim of an attack. I assure you, it's nothing to be concerned about." But still, he thought he caught a look of concern between her and Harry.

He nodded and looked out the door at the approaching constables. He forced himself to calm down; why should he assume they were there to arrest him? Was he a criminal or something?

Two men in uniforms walked into the room. "Good afternoon, Sir. I'm PC Davis, and this is my partner PC Clifford. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

John forced a smile. "No, no, I don't mind, but I don't know how much information I'll be able to give you."

"Very well, has anyone checked for his ID?" He looked around towards Harry and Sarah Jane.

"Yes," Harry said. "There was nothing in any of his pockets but a rather nice looking engagement ring."

John opened the box to show them.

"Hmm," said PC Davis as he eyed the ring. "Rather odd that you have no identification or anything else on you, yet this looks to be a rather valuable piece of jewelry. If you had been robbed, I should think the thief or thieves wouldn't have overlooked it."

"I suppose," John started.

"Maybe he was injured trying to protect the ring and he managed to get away from whoever harmed him before it was stolen as well," Sarah Jane jumped in.

"It's certainly possible," Clifford said. "Or perhaps he was injured by someone trying to stop him from taking the ring."

John looked stricken. "You mean … you think I …"

"We're not saying anything yet," Davis said. "We haven't had any reports as of yet of a robbery in this area, other than your possible assault."

"Maybe he doesn't have a wallet or anything else on him because he was trying to use them as a distraction so no one would take the ring," Sarah chimed in defensively.

"And anyway," Harry said, stepping between John and the officers, "there's no indication that it even was an assault. This is an impact wound; he could have been knocked down by a car or simply slipped in the rain and hit his head on the curb. It certainly isn't a defensive wound, unless the person defending themselves was carrying something very heavy and very sharp."

"Right, you don't have enough evidence to make any kind of judgement at this time. So, since the ring was found in John's pocket, that makes it legally his property until and unless you can prove otherwise," said Sarah.

"Clearly, Mister Doe," Davis said, "you have found yourself some devoted friends." He put a hand up to stop Clifford from saying anything. "But the fact is that they're right. Unless and until we have some reason to believe that you've committed a crime, and at the moment we don't, the ring isn't evidence, and we have no right to take possession of it."

"Everbody's a lawyer," Clifford muttered.

"At the moment," Davis continued, "it's just missing person case. Or rather a found person," he smiled.

"Officer," John said, closing the box and holding onto it tightly, "if someone is looking for me, will you be able to know it's me even if you don't have my name?"

"Of course Sir, not to worry. We check out all missing person reports very thoroughly," said PC Davis, scribbling into his notebook.

"Yes, we leave no stone unturned in these matters," agreed PC Clifford.

"But we still have the matter of your possible assault to deal with," Davis said. "Do you remember anything at all about what happened to you?"

John shook his head gently. "The first thing I remember is waking up in the rain with Doctor Sullivan here talking to me. Nothing before that. The Doctors say they think it'll all come back before long, but I'm afraid for now I'm not very much help."

"The tests revealed that there's been no serious brain injury," Harry confirmed.

"Right then," PC Davis flipped the cover back on his notebook as he finished writing. "We'll type up what we have and hopefully, in a few days, your memory will return, Mr. Doe. As soon as you're ready to leave, we drive you to the station to finish our report and we'll check and see if we have anything on you there."


	4. Chapter 4

"There's no need for you to take him in, Officer, Harry and I will gladly drive him to the station for you," said Sarah, flashing him her most charming smile. She wasn't about to lose sight of John until she knew more about him. Besides, she still felt responsible for him. "I promise we'll bring him around just as soon as we're done here. You have my word on it."

"I'm sorry, Miss ... er ... I'm sorry, what was your name?" started Davis.

"Smith, Sarah Jane Smith. I'm an investigative journalist," she said as she pulled her press ID out of her wallet and handed it to him. "I found this man on my doorstep, and I'd like to see things through with him, so to speak. If that's all right with you, Officer Davis."

"I thought you looked familiar," Davis said as Clifford rolled his eyes. "I read your piece on illegal dumping in the Thames, very thorough," he smiled.

"Thank you, you're very kind," Sarah beamed at him. "I'd like to know why you want to take John to the police station. I have to tell you that since I feel responsible for him, I don't intend to let him out of my sight. Therefore, I feel quite justified in asking if you planning on charging him with anything. If you are, I plan to call my solicitor in to represent him. He'll be waiting for us at the station by the time we get there." Sarah was still smiling but she knew she made her feelings clear.

John watched, waiting for an answer.

"It's all right," Davis said. "We have no plans to charge him with anything at this time. But if anybody reported him missing, the reports will be down at the station."

"Since you're not charging him with anything, then we'll drop him off at the station as soon as he's done here. I'm sure you don't mind if Dr. Sullivan and I drive him in instead of you."

He smiled back at her. "No, I'm afraid I can't do that. But if you'd like to ride down to the station with us and have Doctor Sullivan follow behind, that's fine."

"That sounds wonderful. I've never been for a ride in a police car," she winked at John. "Would you two gentlemen mind if I just popped out for a moment to get my friend here some new clothes? As you can see, what he had on when he came here isn't fit to wear any more. There's a Tesco just two buildings down from here, I'll be back before they're done with the discharge papers."

John had been watching the entire exchange, and wasn't sure whether to be concerned that the whole thing went by without anybody asking him what he wanted, or relieved that Sarah handled it all without him having to worry about it. He decided on the latter; he felt pretty disconnected, and the idea of being taken to a police station all by himself was a bit nerve-wracking.

Sarah Jane turned to John and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright with all of this, and what kind of clothes do you want me to get for you?"

"Um ... I don't know," he said sheepishly. "I suppose anything comfortable will do, but really, you don't have to do that."

Sarah pointed out the blood and dirt that covered his clothes, and John agreed that he really needed something. After accepting John's promise to pay her back when he remembered who he was, Sarah looked through his clothes and wrote down the sizes, then checked his shoes. "Harry, will you see if you can get some paper towels or something to dry these with? Oh, and stuff the insides of them with paper towels too, that will help wick up some of the moisture."

Harry just rolled his eyes and shook his head, then stood up and pointed to the paper towel dispenser in the cubicle. "Handled," he said, grabbing a handful and beginning to stuff John's shoes.

"I can do that," John said, holding out his hand. "Really."

"Nonsense," said Sarah. "You just lay there and let yourself be pampered," she ordered him. "Plenty of time to get around when you're feeling better. Harry, keep him company and see to it that he relaxes till I get back, and that's an order," she said as she walked out the door.

John watched her go, staring after her for a few moments, even after the constables excused themselves to get some coffee. "Interesting woman," he finally said. "Seems to really know what she wants."

"Oh, you can be sure of that," laughed Harry. "Best to follow her orders too, she can be very feisty if she wants to."

"That wasn't feisty?"

"Not for her it wasn't. Don't get me wrong, she's a wonderful girl with a very kindhearted nature, but she's no one to be trifled with. Trust me, you don't want to face the wrath of Sarah Jane Smith."

John shuddered a little. "She looks so sweet," he said. "You two look very happy together."

"Us?" said Harry with surprise. "I only wish she'd have me. I've proposed to her dozens of times, but it's not me she loves," he said sadly.

"Oh, I ... I'm so sorry, I just assumed ..."

"It's alright old boy," he said, smiling again. "I'm over it and we're the best of friends."

* * *

Once Sarah Jane was outside, she took a deep breath. It felt good to be outside in the fresh air. The rain felt cool on her face and she took another breath and relaxed. She forgave herself for being foolish enough to think that John was the Doctor and headed towards the store.

It didn't take long for her to find a powder blue dress shirt she liked. She ran her hands over the material, then laughed and shook her head. She couldn't help thinking of a shirt almost the same color as this one that the Doctor was quite fond of when he was his third self - only that shirt had ruffles with dark blue trim on it.

Oh, what she wouldn't give to be shopping for the Doctor, or even better still, shopping with him. She sighed and stiffened up a bit, then picked up a navy blue tie - a bit wider than the one he had been wearing, but the best she could do - and went to look at slacks.

* * *

As Sarah headed back into his cubicle, she could hear John and Harry laughing. "What's so funny," she asked as she placed the clothing on the bed for John to inspect.

John stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to say, and looked over at Harry.

Harry smiled. "I was just telling John about how you are definitely your own woman, and you don't let anybody stop you from getting what you want."

John nodded in agreement.

"Oh, I see, and that's what you were laughing at, heh?" She lowered her head and gazed up at both of them with mock severity.

"No, it was not," Harry interjected. "We were laughing at how you put the Minister for the Interior in his place when he tried to tell you what he thought a woman's place was."

"Oh, yes, I remember that. He changed his mind quite a bit after our little chat as I recall," she smiled with satisfaction.

"He uhm, changed a few things alright," Harry laughed.

John couldn't suppress a smile. "Thank you for the clothes, this is too much, really."

"Do you like them?" she asked. "I tried to get something that looked close to what you were wearing."

"They're wonderful, thank you," John said. "And just in time, too, the constables were here a few minutes ago, and the Doctor says I'm ready to get out of here."

"Great, then I'll leave you to get dressed. Harry will stay and help you if you need it, won't you Harry? See you both soon," she smiled at them as she stepped outside.

A few minutes later, Harry pushed the curtain aside and emerged pushing a wheelchair. John felt a little silly with his head bandaged, but otherwise he looked none the worse for wear. "All right then," he said. "Off to the station, I suppose."

The constables, who'd been enjoying a cup of tea, reappeared as if by magic. "Ready to go, then, Mr. Doe?"

"I suppose so." He looked over at Sarah to see if she was still coming with him.

Sarah came over and walked beside him as Harry maneuvered the wheelchair out the door. "Let's hope we find out who you are in a short while," she smiled over at him.

Aside from a few minutes of anxiety when John was photographed and fingerprinted like a common criminal, the trip to the constabulary was fairly uneventful. Nobody had as yet turned in a report that they were looking for him - after all, it was still less than 24 hours that he'd been "missing" - and it would take some time to get a report on whether his fingerprints were on file. John was quiet, mostly observing what went on around him, grateful for the fact that Sarah stayed with him. From what he'd seen so far, and the stories Harry had told him, he was fairly confident that she wouldn't let anyone take advantage of him in his somewhat weakened state.

Finally, they were finished.

"All right then," Inspector Davis said. "As of right now, we don't have any reports of someone looking for you, and we don't have any reason to hold you, so we've made arrangements with the Saint George Men's Hostel."

"You mean a homeless shelter," Sarah said with surprise.

"Yes," Davis continued. "They've got an emergency bed available, and they'll take responsibility for getting you fixed up."

John realized that it hadn't occurred to him to wonder where he was going to go. It made sense, he supposed, because he felt like a single point in time. With no past that he could remember, it didn't occur to him to think about the future; only the present existed. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Miss Smith, I suppose you'll want to come along there was well?" Davis asked.

"You suppose correctly, Inspector." She turned to John. "I'll stay with you till you're all settled in, I promise."

"Thanks," he said, and squeezed her hand gratefully.


	5. Chapter 5

Saint George Men's Hostel was on the outskirts of London, so the ride took almost half an hour, but it passed fairly quietly. Sarah seemed to be lost in thought, and John wasn't sure what to say to anybody. So as the inspectors nattered on to each other about the past weekend's match, John tried to get himself to remember something, anything.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket and stared at it for a few moments. There was no inscription, but he couldn't help but feel it was important to deciphering his identity. No matter how hard he thought about it, though, it was just a piece of gold and stone; it imparted no wisdom, and his life still seemed to begin in the soaking rain of Sarah Jane's porch.

Finally, his head splitting, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Sarah turned to John and saw him trying to sleep. She sat and studied him. He had amazing eyes, and she really liked the way they crinkled when he smiled. Something about those soft dark brown eyes tugged at her every time he looked at her. Even though she was certain that she had never seen him before, she felt as if they were kindred spirits somehow, and it unnerved her a bit. Here he was a total stranger to her, and yet, he could evoke such strong emotions in her. She felt close to him somehow, and she was sure that there was an almost unfathomable depth to him, in spite of his memory loss and understandable confusion. She would almost be sorry when he got his memory back, because she was sure when he did, he would lose the child-like innocence and unquestioning trust he displayed now.

John startled a little as the car stopped and he heard doors opening. He stepped out onto the street. Unlike Sarah's house - where was that? He realized he didn't even know - London was cold and gritty, and now, hours after he'd woken up on her doorstep, the sun was beginning to fade, giving everything a sickly gray pallor.

The hostel itself, however, was anything but gray. Built in Victorian times, it was huge, imposing, and bright green. At least three stories high, steep roofs sloped off at all angles and gingerbread trim lined gables and wings pointed in every direction.

John's head hurt just looking at it.

PC Davis took him gently by the arm. "This way, Mr. Doe, they're expecting you."

John looked back at Sarah hopefully.

Sarah Jane smiled at him, took his other arm, and gave it a squeeze. "It'll be alright, you'll see," she said warmly.

Together the four of them walked in to the main parlor, and a sister met them at the door. "Welcome to Saint George," she said, and took John's hand, leading him down the hall to her office.

The moment they'd stepped through the door, John was assaulted with the smell of humanity packed into a small space. Sweat, alcohol, anger, fear, they permeated the air in stark contrast to the genteel look of the parlor; now that they headed down the hall, he could see into huge rooms lined with triple bunk beds, people and possessions strewn everywhere. An old man lumbered past them, mumbling 'hello' to the sister as he went by. He didn't smell of drink, or even sweat, but he had an air of hopelessness clinging to him that made John stare despite his best instincts.

Sarah wasn't aware of it, but her grip on John's arm tightened a bit as she surveyed the shelter. She took it all in and decided that she was going to do a story, or even a series of them, to make people more aware of what these people had to live with every day. They were clean and dressed well enough, but the lost expressions on their faces told the real story. She was sure they were being well treated, but now she was looking at things through John's eyes and it was a very frightening feeling. She said nothing but went along with John as they walked into the office.

"Now then," Sister said as John and Sarah sat down, the policemen flanking the door as though they were bodyguards. "As I understand, you were assaulted and you have no memory?"

"That's right, Sister," John said quietly. His mind was running through what it was going to be like staying here. He'd thought the hospital was busy; a room with that many people... His head pounded.

"Well, you needn't worry, we'll take excellent care of you." She looked at the paperwork PC Clifford had handed her. "Everything seems to be in order here, and we have a bed available for you. We've moved a few people around so you can have a bottom bunk; can't have you climbing with that head injury, now can we? And according to this we need to wake you every two hours for the first night to make sure you're all right." She made a note. "We've put you near matron's room just in case you need anything, and to ensure there aren't any problems," she said, almost to herself, as she made more notes. "All right then. Have you any valuables you might like to store here in the office? I'm afraid we do have some issues with theft."

More than theft, John thought to himself. There was a reason for the smell of fear in here, he was sure of it. His hand closed on the small velvet box in his pocket. It was literally all he had in the world, and he didn't want to part with it. But he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to it. "Sarah," he said quickly, shoving the box at her, "would you keep this for me?"

Sarah looked down at the box and then up at John's face. Her heart broke for him. He was alone, just as she was, but even more so. At least she had a home to go back to, and friends. Here she was feeling sorry for herself and out of place; how could she say that now, looking at John and what he was trying to deal with? "Certainly, I'll guard it with my life," she smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm sure you'll be out of here and wanting it back in no time."

"Yes, Mr. Doe," Sister said kindly. "You needn't worry. You'll only be here for two or three days. After that, either your memory will return, and you'll be free to go, or it won't, and we'll pursue other options."

Sarah's head snapped back and her eyes grew narrow as she turned to face the sister. She didn't like the sound of that at all. "What other options," she asked suspiciously.

"Well, we try to be enlightened here, Miss ..."

"Sarah Jane Smith," Officer Davis said.

"Miss Smith," Sister continued. "We recognize that rough sleeping is often caused by physical issues outside a person's control. So we are in a pilot program with the National Health Service to provide people with cognitive issues options other than the streets or a shelter."

"I'd like to hear more about that if I may." Her lips were pursed a bit, as she eyed everyone in the room but John. She was beginning to get the picture the sister was trying to form, and she was pretty sure she didn't at all like the implications.

"Well, we'll make sure that Mr. Doe is registered with a physician, and if his memory loss is found to be permanent, then there are other facilities where he can live."

John listened carefully. He was in favor of any situation that didn't have him living at Saint George.

"So let me see if I truly understand. What you're trying very hard not to say," said Sarah sharply. "Is that, if he doesn't get his memory back in a few days, you're going to process and section him. Is that right," Sarah Jane's tone was very defensive now.

John, didn't know quite what she was getting at, but the way Sarah said it, it didn't sound good. "What does that mean?"

"I tell you what it means John," said Sarah, now in full defense mode. "It means that they only intend to keep you here for a few days. After that, if your memory doesn't come back, they are going to send you to a psychiatric ward, a place where lunatics are kept."

She turned to glare at the sister. "Look at him, does he look as if he'll fit right in there? Have you given any thought to what that place will be like for him? It's not as if he's homicidal or something."

"Now Miss Smith, please calm down," said the sister. "You're overreacting. He'll be perfectly fine wherever he ends up. We have a system in place to ensure that."

"Oh, I'll just bet you do," Sarah spat, eyes glaring. "And how many people get lost each year in your precious system, can you tell me that?"

John was glad Harry had warned him about the wrath of Sarah Jane Smith. He was also very glad right now that she was on his side.

"I will be happy to let you pour over our records and gather whatever statistics you will, but I think you're losing sight of the more important issue here. We have a person here who has nowhere else to go, no one to be responsible for him."

"No you don't," Sarah said defiantly. "I'll be responsible for him."

"Miss Smith," Sister started, "I'm afraid it's not that simple." She was still smiling, but there was a slight clip in her voice that showed she was losing patience. "Because of his medical condition, Mr. Doe is now a ward of the state. Saint George is legally responsible for him now, and we simply can't release him to you just on your say-so. However, if you're very serious and very sure about this, and you'd like to come back in the morning, after you've taken the time this through, I'll be happy to help you initiate procedures to apply to be designated as Mr. Doe's legal guardian. But for tonight, he's got a bed in ward three, and I'm afraid that's where he's going to stay."

It was as though she had just assigned him to his own prison cell. John felt his hand begin to shake.


	6. Chapter 6

Saint George Men's Hostel was on the outskirts of London, so the ride took almost half an hour, but it passed fairly quietly. Sarah seemed to be lost in thought, and John wasn't sure what to say to anybody. So as the inspectors nattered on to each other about the past weekend's match, John tried to get himself to remember something, anything.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket and stared at it for a few moments. There was no inscription, but he couldn't help but feel it was important to deciphering his identity. No matter how hard he thought about it, though, it was just a piece of gold and stone; it imparted no wisdom, and his life still seemed to begin in the soaking rain of Sarah Jane's porch.

Finally, his head splitting, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Sarah turned to John and saw him trying to sleep. She sat and studied him. He had amazing eyes, and she really liked the way they crinkled when he smiled. Something about those soft dark brown eyes tugged at her every time he looked at her. Even though she was certain that she had never seen him before, she felt as if they were kindred spirits somehow, and it unnerved her a bit. Here he was a total stranger to her, and yet, he could evoke such strong emotions in her. She felt close to him somehow, and she was sure that there was an almost unfathomable depth to him, in spite of his memory loss and understandable confusion. She would almost be sorry when he got his memory back, because she was sure when he did, he would lose the child-like innocence and unquestioning trust he displayed now.

John startled a little as the car stopped and he heard doors opening. He stepped out onto the street. Unlike Sarah's house - where was that? He realized he didn't even know - London was cold and gritty, and now, hours after he'd woken up on her doorstep, the sun was beginning to fade, giving everything a sickly gray pallor.

The hostel itself, however, was anything but gray. Built in Victorian times, it was huge, imposing, and bright green. At least three stories high, steep roofs sloped off at all angles and gingerbread trim lined gables and wings pointed in every direction.

John's head hurt just looking at it.

PC Davis took him gently by the arm. "This way, Mr. Doe, they're expecting you."

John looked back at Sarah hopefully.

Sarah Jane smiled at him, took his other arm, and gave it a squeeze. "It'll be alright, you'll see," she said warmly.

Together the four of them walked in to the main parlor, and a sister met them at the door. "Welcome to Saint George," she said, and took John's hand, leading him down the hall to her office.

The moment they'd stepped through the door, John was assaulted with the smell of humanity packed into a small space. Sweat, alcohol, anger, fear, they permeated the air in stark contrast to the genteel look of the parlor; now that they headed down the hall, he could see into huge rooms lined with triple bunk beds, people and possessions strewn everywhere. An old man lumbered past them, mumbling 'hello' to the sister as he went by. He didn't smell of drink, or even sweat, but he had an air of hopelessness clinging to him that made John stare despite his best instincts.

Sarah wasn't aware of it, but her grip on John's arm tightened a bit as she surveyed the shelter. She took it all in and decided that she was going to do a story, or even a series of them, to make people more aware of what these people had to live with every day. They were clean and dressed well enough, but the lost expressions on their faces told the real story. She was sure they were being well treated, but now she was looking at things through John's eyes and it was a very frightening feeling. She said nothing but went along with John as they walked into the office.

"Now then," Sister said as John and Sarah sat down, the policemen flanking the door as though they were bodyguards. "As I understand, you were assaulted and you have no memory?"

"That's right, Sister," John said quietly. His mind was running through what it was going to be like staying here. He'd thought the hospital was busy; a room with that many people... His head pounded.

"Well, you needn't worry, we'll take excellent care of you." She looked at the paperwork PC Clifford had handed her. "Everything seems to be in order here, and we have a bed available for you. We've moved a few people around so you can have a bottom bunk; can't have you climbing with that head injury, now can we? And according to this we need to wake you every two hours for the first night to make sure you're all right." She made a note. "We've put you near matron's room just in case you need anything, and to ensure there aren't any problems," she said, almost to herself, as she made more notes. "All right then. Have you any valuables you might like to store here in the office? I'm afraid we do have some issues with theft."

More than theft, John thought to himself. There was a reason for the smell of fear in here, he was sure of it. His hand closed on the small velvet box in his pocket. It was literally all he had in the world, and he didn't want to part with it. But he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to it. "Sarah," he said quickly, shoving the box at her, "would you keep this for me?"

Sarah looked down at the box and then up at John's face. Her heart broke for him. He was alone, just as she was, but even more so. At least she had a home to go back to, and friends. Here she was feeling sorry for herself and out of place; how could she say that now, looking at John and what he was trying to deal with? "Certainly, I'll guard it with my life," she smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm sure you'll be out of here and wanting it back in no time."

"Yes, Mr. Doe," Sister said kindly. "You needn't worry. You'll only be here for two or three days. After that, either your memory will return, and you'll be free to go, or it won't, and we'll pursue other options."

Sarah's head snapped back and her eyes grew narrow as she turned to face the sister. She didn't like the sound of that at all. "What other options," she asked suspiciously.

"Well, we try to be enlightened here, Miss ..."

"Sarah Jane Smith," Officer Davis said.

"Miss Smith," Sister continued. "We recognize that rough sleeping is often caused by physical issues outside a person's control. So we are in a pilot program with the National Health Service to provide people with cognitive issues options other than the streets or a shelter."

"I'd like to hear more about that if I may." Her lips were pursed a bit, as she eyed everyone in the room but John. She was beginning to get the picture the sister was trying to form, and she was pretty sure she didn't at all like the implications.

"Well, we'll make sure that Mr. Doe is registered with a physician, and if his memory loss is found to be permanent, then there are other facilities where he can live."

John listened carefully. He was in favor of any situation that didn't have him living at Saint George.

"So let me see if I truly understand. What you're trying very hard not to say," said Sarah sharply. "Is that, if he doesn't get his memory back in a few days, you're going to process and section him. Is that right," Sarah Jane's tone was very defensive now.

John, didn't know quite what she was getting at, but the way Sarah said it, it didn't sound good. "What does that mean?"

"I tell you what it means John," said Sarah, now in full defense mode. "It means that they only intend to keep you here for a few days. After that, if your memory doesn't come back, they are going to send you to a psychiatric ward, a place where lunatics are kept."

She turned to glare at the sister. "Look at him, does he look as if he'll fit right in there? Have you given any thought to what that place will be like for him? It's not as if he's homicidal or something."

"Now Miss Smith, please calm down," said the sister. "You're overreacting. He'll be perfectly fine wherever he ends up. We have a system in place to ensure that."

"Oh, I'll just bet you do," Sarah spat, eyes glaring. "And how many people get lost each year in your precious system, can you tell me that?"

John was glad Harry had warned him about the wrath of Sarah Jane Smith. He was also very glad right now that she was on his side.

"I will be happy to let you pour over our records and gather whatever statistics you will, but I think you're losing sight of the more important issue here. We have a person here who has nowhere else to go, no one to be responsible for him."

"No you don't," Sarah said defiantly. "I'll be responsible for him."

"Miss Smith," Sister started, "I'm afraid it's not that simple." She was still smiling, but there was a slight clip in her voice that showed she was losing patience. "Because of his medical condition, Mr. Doe is now a ward of the state. Saint George is legally responsible for him now, and we simply can't release him to you just on your say-so. However, if you're very serious and very sure about this, and you'd like to come back in the morning, after you've taken the time this through, I'll be happy to help you initiate procedures to apply to be designated as Mr. Doe's legal guardian. But for tonight, he's got a bed in ward three, and I'm afraid that's where he's going to stay."

It was as though she had just assigned him to his own prison cell. John felt his hand begin to shake.


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah was shaking too, but all over, and with anger. " **NO!** He's not going to spend one minute here if I can help it. May I use your phone please?"

"Miss Smith," Officer Davis started, "I'm not sure we can let you do this. You don't know this man, and I'm not comfortable leaving you alone with him like this."

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself in any situation, thank you. Now, I'd like to use the phone please. If that's an inconvenience, I'll simply go outside and use the one there. But I warn you, I'm not letting John out of my sight, so you two constables will have to come with us."

Sister sighed and turned her phone so that Sarah could use it.

John watched as she dialed. He could see where Davis was coming from, but he knew he wouldn't hurt a fly, and it felt good to have someone really fighting for him.

Sarah dialed and waited. She had to admit, it just felt so right to be fighting for a good cause again. She realized in the few seconds while the phone was ringing that she didn't just miss the Doctor, she missed the adventure too. It was always so much fun to be fighting by his side. She was never afraid as long as she knew he was with her. Together, nothing could beat them.

"UNIT HQ, how may I direct your call?"

Sarah snapped out of daydreaming and used her most serious voice. She spoke loud and clear to let everyone in the room know that she wasn't going to brook anyone trying to go over her head. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart please. Yes, you can tell him it's Sarah Jane Smith." She flashed a 'so there' look at the three so-called 'authorities' in the room. She'd show them, and oh, just wait and see what she was going to write about this. Them and their sectioning... "Hello Brigadier. Yes, I'm fine, but I really need your help with a problem I'm having at the moment."

The Brigadier sighed. "Typical. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"No trouble at all, Brigadier," she said sweetly. "I need you to arrange for me to be given legal guardianship of someone as quickly as possible. Do you think you and UNIT are up to the challenge?"

"Well, of course we can, Miss Smith, you know that. But that's a bit of an odd request. Have you found an errant child?"

"No, Harry and I found a man with a head injury on my front steps and he's lost his memory. I want to take care of him until he's recovered, but the so-called 'authorities' at St. George's and the two constables that are here with me now are saying I can't take him home with me without the proper paperwork. So what I want to know is, how long do you think it will take you to fix this mess for me, Brigadier?"

"You say Doctor Sullivan is aware of this, is he?"

"Yes, he can fill you in on what happened if you like. I'm going to give him a call as soon as you arrange everything here for me."

"Then you'll be having Doctor Sullivan accompany you home and he'll be staying with you as well," the Brigadier said matter-of-factly.

Sarah knew better than to argue with the Brig, especially when he was giving her what she wanted. "Of course he will, but I warn you, I haven't asked him yet, so he doesn't know about it. I promise though, as soon as it's settled on this end, I'll give him a ring." She smiled and winked at John.

"I'll hold you to that, Miss Smith." He got the particulars from her. "All right, I'll make a few calls and messenger the paperwork over to you."

"Thank you so much, Brigadier. I knew I could count on you." Sarah hung up and smiled with satisfaction. She took John's hand and held it as she sat back and waited calmly for the courier to arrive.

John smiled in spite of himself. She was a force to be reckoned with, all right.

In less than an hour a UNIT soldier showed up and delivered the papers personally into the Sister's hand.

"Thank you so much Mister Benton," Sarah grinned at him when he was done.

Warrant Officer Benton smiled at her. "My pleasure, Miss Smith, as always. Is this Mister Doe?" He held a hand out to John, who shook it. "Very nice to meet you."

"And you," John said.

"And the Brigadier wanted me to make sure you called Doctor Sullivan," he continued.

Sarah could barely keep herself from laughing. "Oh, I'll call him right away Mr. Benton. I have to, he's our ride home. Better yet, why don't you give us a ride back to my place? You have to pass by there anyway and if it's alright with you, I can use your RT to call him."

"I'm sure the Brigadier wouldn't mind that," Benton said, smiling. "Of course."

The sister opened up the packet on her desk and examined the paperwork. Then she handed it to Officer Davis and looked over at the two men as if to say, 'are you both going to allow this?'

Officer Davis looked over the paperwork, smiled quietly, then showed it to Clifford, pointing to a particular item. Clifford looked less then pleased, but Davis smiled. "Everything seems to be in order, Sister, so we'll all be on our way. Thanks so much for making your services available, but thankfully we won't be needing them today." He helped John to his feet. "Miss Smith, we'll escort you and Mister Doe back to the car and wait while you contact Doctor Sullivan."

"Isn't this lovely, John? We have Mr. Benton to take us home, and these two very kind constables to escort us to the jeep." There was a somewhat satisfied gleam in Sarah's eyes.

John wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he decided to just go with it. "Yes, very nice, thank you," he said. "Thank you, Sister."

Sister shook his hand, but while she was smiling, he could see the scowl in her eyes. "Good luck, Mister Doe. If we can be of service to you at any time, please let us know."

"No offense, Sister," John said, still shaking her hand, "but I hope I never see you again."

She smiled sadly, as though she expected him back within the week. "So do I."

Sarah reached her hand out and tried not to be too smug. "Yes, thank you Sister and good bye. I can promise you that you won't be seeing John again."

"We're always here, Miss Smith," Sister said, and showed them out.

Sarah turned to her as they headed towards the door. "Oh, and don't worry, I won't ever forget you're here." Having had the last word she put her hand on John's arm and allowed the two constables to see them to Mr. Benton's jeep.

"All right, then," Davis said, sitting on the hood of the Jeep. "I believe you had a call to make," he told Sarah.

Having gotten her own way, Sarah was in a good mood. She decided that Officer Davis was a decent sort of man and that she liked him. She smiled at him as she got into the jeep. "I certainly do," she said turning to Mr. Benton. "May I have your RT please?"

Benton handed it to her and she called Harry. She wasn't the least surprised when he said yes and he even offered to bring over an extra pair of pajamas for John to wear.

"There it is," said Sarah as she handed the RT back to Benton. "Thank you gentlemen for all your kind attentions."

"You're very welcome, Miss Smith," Davis said, handing her a card. "If there's anything else we can do for you, or if John here remembers anything, please let us know. We had two investigators out looking around your house, but with all this rain... At any rate, if anyone is looking for you, John, we'll be sure to call right away."

"Thank you, sir," John said.

The rain had finally stopped, and Harry was standing on the stoop waiting for them by the time they got back. The Brigadier had grilled him thoroughly on the situation before initiating any paperwork, and he was tired. But somehow he felt better when Sarah Jane waved to him and smiled, and he realized that he hadn't seen her smile like that since before she had come back from traveling with the Doctor.

But as glad as he was to see her smile, he found himself wondering why. He had some thoughts about the reasons, and he wasn't sure he approved of any of them.

He decided to let it go for now. After all, he was planning on spending the next few days at her house for the express purpose of making sure nothing untoward was going to happen, so for now, at least, there was nothing to worry about. He waved as Sarah said goodbye to Benton and led John over to the door. "And how's the patient feeling?" he asked.

"A little silly, but very grateful. You should have seen her, Harry," John beamed. "She was wonderful."

Harry put his arm on John's shoulder as if he were an old school chum. He looked over and smiled at Sarah Jane. "I'm sure she was. I did warn you about it old chap, but now that you've seen it for yourself, you know what she's like in action. I know I'd never want her upset with me, that's for certain."

"Nor me," John said. "Definitely not." He looked at Harry incredulously. "Did you know they were going to section me?"

Now that was alarming, Harry thought. "Why were they going to do that?" he asked Sarah as she came over to them, all levity gone.

"They were going to do it just because he can't remember anything." She set her jaw in anger. "They're heartless and cruel, the whole lot of them. I'm telling you Harry, I'm going to start investigating them for a series of articles I'm planning on writing about their entire system. You should have seen what that place was like."

John was quiet as she related the horrors of the hostel to Harry as she put her key in the door and led him into the house. Her description was particularly vivid, and he found himself getting nervous just thinking about it. He stepped inside and let her lead him to the couch, still talking.

Sarah plumped up the cushions for John and let him settle in. "Would you like another blanket or more pillows, John?"

The couch was soft and comfortable, and as he lay back on it, his shoes hanging over the edge, it seemed to almost swallow him whole, the cool cloth of the couch like a salve on his nerves. "Honestly, I'm really tired," he yawned. "I think I'd just like to get some sleep, if that's all right."

"That's fine John. Harry, I trust you can follow the instructions we got from the hospital," she laughed as she handed him the discharge papers. "I'm going to go out for a while and do some grocery shopping. Any requests for food?"

John heard her, but as if from a long way away. Something about food. He realized he hadn't eaten at all, and a little part of his brain was trying to tell him he was starving, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He motioned for Sarah to come closer so he could hear her, but when she did, he'd forgotten what he wanted. He put a hand out, missing her shoulder completely, then mumbled "Thank you for everything," and fell asleep.

"Well," Harry said, "so much for pajamas." He navigated weak resistance to check John's pupils. "Just asleep. It's normal."

"Good, please keep an eye on him and make yourself at home, I'll be back shortly. Oh, and Harry?"

Harry looked hard at her. She seemed confident, really confident, for the first time in a long time. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Thank you for being such a good friend, it means more than I can say." She grabbed her jacket and slipped it over one arm, leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. "I just want you to know that you're appreciated." She finished putting her coat on and grabbed her car keys off the mantle. "I know what kind of food you like, Doctor Sullivan and, I promise to stock up on your favorite biscuits as well," she smiled warmly at him.

Harry smiled back at her and watched her go, then wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Idly munching a Jammie Dodger, he stared at John's gently snoring form draped over the couch. "Who are you, John Doe, and why exactly did you wash up on Sarah Jane's doorstep?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Good Morning. Looks to me as if we're not having toast with breakfast today John," she laughed. "Perhaps it's for the best, lately the toaster blackens the bread unless I watch over it and unplug it after a few seconds. Getting toast from it these days is more or less a gamble. If you win, toast, if you lose, you get a burnt offering."

John laughed at the pun, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm afraid I've already ... er ... discovered the problem." He motioned towards a plate on the counter with four charred objects that might have started out as sliced bread. "I thought I'd make you some breakfast, but that doesn't seem to have panned out."

"I see," said Sarah as she examined the now brick-like bread, tapping it on the plate. "This one might break the dish." She set the toast down and sighed. "Maybe we should just give the poor old thing a proper burial and later I'll go out and buy a new one." She sadly picked up the rubbish bin and held it out to John so he could dump the toaster parts into it.

John looked at her as though she had three heads and the middle one was on fire. "Wh-why throw out a perfectly good toaster? It's just the temperature setting that was off. I've readjusted it and I'll have it back together in a minute. Here, hang about." And true to his word, just under a minute later the toaster (minus a small fortune in breadcrumbs) was reassembled. He plugged it in and dropped in one more piece of bread, then pushed down the lever and waited. Thirty seconds later, a beautiful, golden brown piece of light toast popped up. "There, see?" He held it out to her.

Sarah looked at the toast and then up at John. "You know something John," she beamed at him. "You're brilliant."

"It's just a toaster," he said, smiling shyly. "It's the least I could do." He brushed the crumbs into the wastebasket.

"I still think the way you fixed it is amazing, and to tell you the truth, I'm actually very partial to that old toaster. You see, it has a lot of memories attached to it. When I was small, and whenever my Aunt was home she used to make toast for me with it in the morning before I went to school," she smiled warmly at the thought. "And, to show you how grateful I am, I'm going make you the biggest breakfast you ever saw. You have only to tell me what you'd like to eat, and it's yours."

"I hadn't thought much past toast. I don't even know if I know how to cook," he laughed. "So I'll trust your judgement." John beamed with pride, almost, but not quite, like a small child seeing his picture on the refrigerator. "At least there's something I can do."

"Well, you now rank as a genius as far as I'm concerned. Would you like eggs? I can make them in almost any style from scotch eggs to an omelet. I can also make black pudding, fried bread, kippers, rashers, broiled fish, steak and kidneys, mutton, you name it. I'll make you a real feast of it if you like. After all, this morning, you're my hero."

Harry, still in his pajamas, walked in just as Sarah Jane was offering to cook for John. He didn't like the idea of her spoiling John this way. He could just about guess what she was still wishing. "Goodness," he said, "that's an awful lot of food. Did John jump in front of a bullet for you or something?"

"Sentimentally attached to her toaster," John said, as though that explained it all.

Harry raised an eyebrow at both of them. "Was someone trying to shoot it?"

"Not exactly," Sarah giggled. "I almost buried it alive and John came to it's rescue."

"To be fair," John said, pointing to the black bricks that it had originally produced as he cleaned up more crumbs on the counter, "it was masquerading as a deadly weapon."

"You know, maybe it was a mistake to fix it," Sarah laughed. "We might have been able to sell those bread bombs to the military as a new kind of weapon."

"Well, you can take it up with the Brig, but I very much doubt that he would be interested in the matter," said Harry, trying not to let it show that he disapproved of Sarah's fussing over John. "I should also like to point out my dear Miss Smith that you have two starving men in your kitchen. Do you require any assistance with breakfast? I do seem to recall a feast was mentioned."

Sarah Jane looked over at John and winked at him. "Well, I can't have men dropping from hunger in my kitchen now, can I? You two take some dishes and utensils out and set the table, and I'll make breakfast. It should be finished by the time you're dressed and sitting at the table." She scooted them over to the cupboard, and handed them three plates, then the utensils. "Now go shoo while I cook," she smiled at them.

John took the plates, leaving the utensils for Harry and heading for the dining room table. He was still wearing the clothes Sarah had bought him the day before, and they definitely looked like he'd slept in them, which he had. "Good morning," he said to Harry as they set the table. "Thank you for keeping an eye on me last night."

"You're quite welcome, old chap. It really wasn't any trouble. I'm sure you'll be pleased to learn that the worst of it's over now." He smiled his best professional smile. "You had very favorable responses last night, so I'm reasonably certain that there's no longer a need to be concerned, and there shouldn't be any serious problems now with that head wound, as long as it's properly looked after."

"Very good to hear," John said as he sat down. He touched the huge dressing on his head. "Any idea how long I need to look like a stand-in from 'Return of the Mummy'?"

"Well, you could keep it on till All Hallow's Eve and scare the kiddies, but that's a ways off, so if you really don't want it, I suspect we can change the bandages one or two more times and if it's closing well, then we can put a small bandage on it till it's completely healed. You can't be too careful with a head wound like that. An infection is actually more dangerous than the lesion itself in most cases like this."

John got quiet for a moment. "I still can't remember anything."

"That should clear up very soon. Best not to worry about it, old boy." He patted John on the shoulder reassuringly. "You'll have your memory back and be on your way home in no time." 'And the sooner the better, for every one's sake,' Harry thought to himself.

In a short while, Sarah had breakfast prepared and on the table and they were enjoying their meal.

"Have some more scotch eggs John," Sarah said, handing him the plate as he finished the one he was eating. "There's only a few left and they're not as good warmed over as the first time you have them."

"Even warmed over," he said with a mouthful as he took two more, "they're better than anything else I've eaten," he mumbled.

"Give me the kippers any day," Harry said, piling the fish on his plate. It was as though he and John were competing to see who could put away a bigger breakfast. "You can't beat a nice salty kipper, I always say. And these are just splendid, Sarah Jane, thank you. Though they can probably smell them next door," he laughed.

Sarah's face started to turn green as she got a good whiff of the kippers Harry practically waved under her face. She hadn't felt good about them by the time she'd put them on the table, but now they were unbearable. "Oh dear, I think I smell something burning. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll be back in a moment," she said. "I must have left a burner on in the kitchen." She walked as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

Harry watched her go, chewing absently on another piece of fish. Then he looked over at John, who seemed oblivious as he downed a fourth scotch egg. "Are you much of a cricket fan old boy? I was thinking of going to see Marylebone play Middlesex, maybe you'd like to come with me. Should be over by five or so."

John thought about it as he chewed. "I'm not sure how I feel about cricket, actually. I suppose we'll find out, won't we," he said, chewing happily.

"I've got five quid on Marylebone," said Harry excitedly. "Today's only the first day but if they win by five runs, I get a return of twenty five quid."

"Five quid at five to one on five runs, done by five," John said. "Too bad it's not quite May yet."

It took Harry a second to get John's meaning, but then he laughed. "Five to five to five to five by five if it were May. You are the clever one aren't you, John?"

John looked up from the rasher of bacon he was eating, surprised. "Hm? Simple pattern," he said. "Maybe I'm a mathematician."

Sarah came back into the room just then. "Hmmm, Royal Mathematician to the Queen. Has a nice sound to it I think," she said, laughing.


	9. Chapter 9

That afternoon, after Sarah had insisted they'd be fine while Harry went to work, John lay on the couch. The television was on, but clearly he wasn't watching it. Instead he was staring out the window. Suddenly the phone rang, and he sprang up and stared expectantly as Sarah answered it.

"Hullo," said Sarah. She looked around, saw John, and smiled at him before she turned her attention to her caller. "Did you find out anything about them," she asked calmly. She smiled again. "Marvelous, now just behave naturally and remember to call me every few days and report in. I'll come in a few days and pay you."

John let out the breath he'd been holding and tried not to look as disappointed as he felt. Obviously this was not the police calling to say that someone had come looking for him. He went back to the couch and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and stop the pounding.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Sarah sat down next to him. "I'm sorry John, it wasn't about you. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

He forced a smile. "You don't need to apologize because you have a life. I just ... I feel like I'm in some kind of limbo. Not here, not there, not anywhere. But that's not your problem."

Sarah looked at him and couldn't help but thinking for perhaps the third or fourth time today how much John reminded her of the Doctor. The Doctor always seemed as if he were in limbo too, never really belonging anywhere either. She always sensed that it was the reason he felt the need to be so transient. As if he was constantly searching for a place where he could fit in. She saw John's lost expression and smiled warmly at him. "My Auntie used to say that trouble shared is trouble halved. Would you like to go for a walk with me, John? Maybe if we wander around for a while, someone will recognize you." Sarah gave him a look that was almost a dare.

He loved that smile. It was contagious. "Sure. If nothing else, they'll notice this thing," he said, pointing to the bandages.

"Look there's no point in feeling sorry for yourself with me. I'm the type that believes in action, not moping about." She paused for a moment. 'I'm a fine one to talk, aren't I?' She'd been feeling sorry for herself ever since the Doctor had dropped her off.

Looking at John, she realized things could be worse than they were. What was it about him that touched her and brought things out in her that only one other person ever managed to? She pushed those thoughts far back into her mind. She didn't want to think about that now. "Are you coming or not?" she asked John.

"I suppose," he said, looking around for his shoes, "that I'm the sort of man who can't resist a dare." His shoes had curled up as they'd dried, but he forced his feet into them, then stood up and held out an elbow for Sarah.

Sarah smiled as she took his arm. "Well, let's go then, shall we?"

He held the door open for her before stepping through. "You know, maybe we'll pass my house, and everything will come flooding back to me. You live here, have you ever seen me about?"

Sarah sighed sadly then shrugged. "Sorry no, you see I've only just returned here after being away for years. I'm afraid I haven't been out much since I got back. You could live three houses down and I wouldn't know it."

He nodded. "Wow, you've been gone for years? Did you move away and move back or something?"

Sarah laughed softly and shook her head in affirmation. "All of the above, left, came back and definitely did something."

"Sounds interesting," he said as he followed her down the street. "What were you doing? If I'm not being too nosy," he added quickly.

"I was an assistant to a scientific explorer. He and I traveled together for over six years. We used to have the most amazing adventures together," Sarah's face grew soft as she became lost in thought about the Doctor. She didn't realize it, but the longing she felt was quite obvious. Any one could hear the caring and pain in her voice and see the feelings she had for the Doctor.

"What happened to him?" John asked quietly.

"He had to go someplace very far away and I couldn't go with him. I really don't think he wanted to, but he was obligated, you see," she said quietly, barely managing not to cry.

John stopped walking and looked at her. It was almost as if sadness just poured off of her. Here he was feeling sorry for himself, and she was completely devastated. At least he didn't know what he was missing. Without a word, he quietly enfolded her in his arms and held her.

Sarah didn't stop him. John was just what she needed. He was someone who didn't know what happened and wouldn't lecture her like her well-meaning friends had. She had been so lost and sad for so long, she needed to let it out before it took over her whole life and completely broke her. So, she just cried softly while he hugged her. It felt so good to be comforted.

He just held her as she cried, aching for her. He wanted so badly to help her, as though it was somehow his place to fix things for her. Maybe it was just because she'd been the first person he'd seen; it was almost as if she'd imprinted herself on him, and now she was part of him. Of course, if he told her that, she'd probably think he was a madman, and run away from him as fast as she could. So he resisted the urge to stroke her hair and just held her. He'd have to be content being a shoulder for her. It would have to be enough.

That evening, as Sarah made dinner for everyone, John and Harry both moved upstairs. Harry had declared John well enough to get around by himself, so Sarah had insisted that he move into the other bed in the guest room, where he could be more comfortable. Harry, meanwhile, had decided to stay for a while - until he was sure John was completely recovered, he said - and John helped him bring his suitcases up to the guest room.

"Harry," John said, closing the bedroom door so Sarah wouldn't hear them, "do you know anything about this explorer Sarah used to travel with?"

Harry was bending over the bed unpacking, but he stood up immediately. "Did she tell you about him, then?" he asked.

John felt as though he'd been physically pushed by the intensity of Harry's reaction. "She just ... from the way she was talking, I thought he died or something, but she says he just went away."

Harry sighed deeply, then he looked over at John. There was something about him that just made you feel very comfortable with him. "I suppose I shouldn't say this, but she's in been in love with him for ages. Everyone who knew them knew about it, but we kept quiet about it because we all knew it wouldn't end well for her. Then a couple of months ago she showed back up all by herself. Seems he just up and left her. It's broken her heart. They were together for so many years, and I hate to see her so unhappy about it."

"I can imagine. That you hate to see her unhappy, I mean," he said quickly. "I can't imagine anyone leaving her."

"Yes well, if he does come back for her, and I doubt that he will, he's got several UNIT members that are going to call him out for it. Myself included."

John nodded. "She seems to think he didn't have a choice."

"Humph, well of course she'd let him off the hook, but then, she'd forgive him for anything. I've known him long enough to agree with the Brig's theory that by now he's got someone else and he's probably leading her on the same way he did poor Sarah."

John nodded, but something didn't seem right. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me, I've known both of them for years. He's not the type to settle down or stay with anyone for very long, not even someone as wonderful as Sarah Jane. She deserves much better, and she could have anyone she wants. Unfortunately, he's the only one she's ever wanted. The Brig's known them longer than I have and he'll tell you that she's always been that way, since the two of them met."

John just nodded again. "Well, thanks. I just ... I was just curious."

"I'm just hoping she accepts it eventually and gets over him. If she does then maybe someone else will have a chance with her. She deserves to find happiness." Harry went back to unpacking as if it were the most important thing in the world.

"She certainly does," John said, and quietly went back downstairs.


End file.
